


The Time Given Us

by Static_Velocity



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Middle Earth, Mirkwood, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Static_Velocity/pseuds/Static_Velocity
Summary: Follow the story of Arasseth Gwaedhiel, handmaiden to the Queen of Mirkwood during the Third Age of Middle Earth. As the shadow over Mirkwood lengthens, her desire to save her homeland will take Arasseth across Arda; from the Gray Havens to Rivendell, Moria to Erebor, even into the dungeons of Dol Guldur. Will Mirkwood ever be free of the Necromancer? Can an Avari handmaid become the Princess of Mirkwood?





	1. Trees They Long Have Known

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I originally wrote and posted on another fanfiction site in 2011! After abandoning it for years, I've decided to pick it back up, rewrite 90% of it, and post it here! A big thanks to emmabeth for all of her help; both with fixing up the story and with navigating AO3!  
> Please see the notes at the end of the chapter for some translations/clarifications. And while I pride myself on my knowledge of the history of Middle Earth, I will be the first to admit that I'm not an expert. I trust that you'll forgive me for any errors.  
> This story will primarily draw from the book canon; but will also include some from the movies, and possibly various games. In the instance of a contradiction, I reserve the right to pick the canon I like best in that instance.

There was something compelling about the sea, Arasseth couldn’t deny that. It was as if the waves whispered secrets too softly to hear, or the gulls echoed the calls of long-lost friends too far away to understand. A sense of ancient longing filled the harbor and tugged gently at Arasseth’s heart as she watched the ship that carried her parents into the West disappear over the horizon. A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder and she looked up, taking comfort in the presence of her Queen.

“Does the sea call to you, Arasseth?” The Queen of Mirkwood asked; her eyes the same color as the waves they focused on. “Do you wish you had joined your parents in their journey to Valinor?”

Arasseth looked back toward the horizon before shaking her head. “No, My Lady Aseawen,” she said with conviction. “There is a whisper, a wonder, that may someday grow too persistent to ignore but today, my heart belongs to the woods of Arda.” Arasseth paused and glanced at Aseawen hesitantly. The long friendship between her mother and the Queen had made Aseawen a familiar figure in Arasseth’s life but even at her young age, she was aware that certain protocols should be observed.

Of course, Arasseth’s curiosity got the better of her and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself; “Why do you stay? I-“ she stuttered as Aseawen turned toward her. “Even I can see that you miss Valinor. Why do you stay here?”

Aseawen smiled, her fond expression chasing away Arasseth’s concern. “I stay out of love.” A small laugh bubbled from her lips. “And an equal measure of stubbornness and fear. My husband and son are here,” she looked over her shoulder, as though her keen eyes could see the great forest to the east. For all Arasseth knew, she could. “They have no interest in leaving, their love for the Greenwood rivals your own, I think.” She turns back to the sea with a wistful smile. “It has been so long since I left the White Shore; my memories of Alqualonde are mingled with grief. I will not return there unless I bring with me joy enough to banish my sorrow.”

The expression on Aseawen’s face was difficult for Arasseth to define. There was sadness so enduring that the young Elf couldn’t comprehend it but on top of that was unshakable determination; at that moment, the sea itself could have risen to wash them all away and been cowed by the will of the woodland Queen.

Before she realized what she was doing, Arasseth had taken the Queen’s pale hand in both of hers and squeezed it fondly. “I swear to you, my Lady, that I will do all I can to ease the pain of your exile.” Arasseth fell to one knee, as she had seen those loyal to the King and Queen do in the past. “I will serve you faithfully, without thought of anything else.”

Aseawen pulled Arasseth to her feet and kissed her forehead gently. “Sweet child, take care what oaths you swear for our lives are long and time changes many thoughts.”

Arasseth opened her mouth to respond and defend her sincerity when the Queen stopped her with another smile.

“I will not hold you to your word,” Aseawen said. “But I will accept your loyalty and love, and you will be as a daughter to me.”

Aseawen put an arm around Arasseth’s shoulders, leading the young elf away from the shore. Arasseth glanced back briefly, imagining for a moment that she could see her parents alighting on the white shores of Valinor and looking back at her with hope and love.

 

* * *

 

 

There was always some risk in venturing too far from the Halls of Thranduil; even with a constant watch on the borders of the Woodland Realm, some things inevitably managed to slip past the guard. Arasseth moved cautiously through the trees, eyes and ears alert for the slightest hint of danger. It was instinctive now, the constant edge of tension that tingled through her with increasing intensity as she moved farther and farther from the safety of her home. Each step was a calculated risk; lessened slightly - but not entirely - by the addition of a long knife attached to her quivver.

Next to her, moving silently through the trees, was Tauriel. The Sylvan elf had a knack for stealth that Arasseth envied.

It had been centuries since the attack that had killed Tauriel’s parents - and given Arasseth’s father the wound that led him, and Arasseth’s mother, to journey to Valinor – and she had spent those years dedicating herself entirely to mastering combat, tracking, and stealth. There were members of the King’s own guard that would be hard pressed to defeat Tauriel in a sparring match. Arasseth’s own skills were almost laughable in comparison; she had spent the years since her parent’s departure serving Aseawen. The Queen of Mirkwood had survived three ages, seen things that Arasseth couldn’t begin to fathom, and now patiently offered that vast knowledge to Arasseth one morsel at a time. Arasseth couldn’t be happier, but it left her little time to practice the skills that Tauriel held so dear.

The slight rustle of leaves to her right caught Arasseth’s attention and she turned, her dark eyes wide, to seek the source of the noise. A wave of relief flowed through her as she spotted the golden hair of the Prince of Mirkwood through the trees. Legolas had been occupied with a task from his father when Tauriel had dragged Arasseth into the forest; she was pleased to see that he had caught up with them.   

Sensing her gaze, Legolas glanced at Arasseth and smiled, his bright eyes sparkling. There was little the Prince loved more than spending time amongst the trees. Even as the forest seemed to grow darker and more treacherous by the day, Legolas remained undaunted. Arasseth felt herself smiling back and wondered if he could see the gratitude in her expression.

The trio slowed their pace as they reached a small clearing. A massive ash tree had been felled by a storm a season ago and now lay across the underbrush like a slumbering giant. The three Elves had met here often, escaping their responsibilities for just a few moments. Long gone were the careless days of their childhood when they could run giggling through the Halls of Thranduil, blissfully oblivious to the growing darkness outside their gates. Even now, young as they were by the standards of their people, the three had few illusions left.

 

Arasseth glanced around the clearing, carefully noting anything that may indicate danger. She was more tense than usual today, though she doubted very much that her tension had anything to do with the forest. She watched as Legolas did his own examination of the clearing before making himself comfortable on a patch of grass; setting his bow across his lap and resting his back against the trunk of the fallen tree. He closed his eyes and leaned back with a small smile.

“It feels good to be out in the free air,” he said.

Tauriel made a soft hum of assent and sat next to him. She smiled at Arasseth, motioning for her to sit on the tree behind her.

Arasseth chuckled; she knew exactly what Tauriel was angling toward. With an unconvincing sigh, she took a seat behind her friend and began to carefully comb through Tauriel’s long auburn locks with her fingers. She loved Tauriel’s hair; the color of leaves at the height of autumn with hints of gold that glinted in the sun. It was so much more vibrant than Arasseth’s own hair which was closer to the nut-brown of ripe acorns.

“What did your father want?” Tauriel asked Legoas.

“He wants me to join the northern watch,” Legolas responded, his eyes still closed against the sun filtering into the clearing.

“I thought that would make you more excited,” Tauriel said.”You have long been asking your father for more responsibility.”

“The northern watch is dull,” Arasseth said with a knowing laugh.

“Very,” Legolas agreed. “The only travelers that far north are traders from Ered Mithrin.”

“There is always a threat from the Withered Heath,” Tauriel said.

“I suppose.” Legolas sighed and turned toward Tauriel and Arasseth with a wry smile. “I just wish my father would trust me with more important tasks.”

Arasseth paused her braiding of Tauriel’s hair to reach down and place a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “Guarding our borders is important,” she said with a bracing smile. “It comforts me knowing that you will be watching over us.”

Legolas’ smile widened and he put his hand over Arasseth’s, squeezing it in gratitude.

“I, for one, envy you,” Tauriel said. “Even a post at the northern border would be preferable to wandering around the Halls without purpose.”

“You have purpose,” Legolas said. “Who else could so effectively keep Arasseth out of trouble?”

The two laughed while Arasseth sighed and went back to braiding Tauriel’s hair. “You _are_ very good at smothering my adventurous spirit,” she said, tugging gently at the braid in her hands.

“Your reckless spirit, more like,” Tauriel says, turning her head just enough for Arasseth to see the fond expression on her face. “You _both_ still get into plenty of trouble, even with my responsible, reasonable influence.”

“Ah, so you were being responsible and reasonable that time you suggested that we hunt ogres in Emyn-nu-Fuin?” Legolas asked.

“As reasonable and responsible as you two were for agreeing to it,” Tauriel responded, sounding slightly chagrined.

“It was a good adventure,” Arasseth said wistfully.

“You were stabbed,” Tauriel reminded her sharply.

Arasseth finished Tauriel’s braid and shrugged. “It was not a serious wound and we did kill a few ogres; seems a fair trade.” She rubbed the spot on her leg where the ogre’s knife had caught her. At the time the wound had seemed to bother Tauriel and Legolas more than it had Arasseth. Now, even long after the wound had vanished into a faint scar, the pair seemed distressed by the memory.

Legolas opened his mouth to respond when the sound of something racing through the undergrowth toward them caught their attention. In an instant, Legolas was on his feet, and arrow set to the string of his bow; Tauriel was only a second slower and the two stood shoulder to shoulder, alert but fearless.

Arasseth held her own bow loosely in one hand, her eyes narrowing as she crouched on the tree trunk and listened to the approaching sound. Whatever was coming clearly didn’t care if it was heard. There was a desperation in the sound of the movement that had Arasseth putting a hand on Legolas’ arm, gesturing for him to wait as he pulled his bowstring tight.

A moment later, a terrified deer crashed into the clearing. Her eyes were wild, rolling in her head as she dashed past the three Elves, never registering their presence, before racing into the trees once more. Tauriel let out a sigh as she and Legolas relaxed their stances.

“I wonder what she was running from,” Tauriel said, peering into the gloom between the trees where the deer had first appeared.

“We should find out,” Arasseth said, hopping off the trunk and coming to stand next to the two. “I do not hear cries of hunting wolves; it may be something more sinister.”

“I agree,” Legolas said. “But we must be cautious.”

“We will follow you,” Tauriel said, a determined glint in her eyes.

As much as they accused Arasseth of recklessness, Legolas and Tauriel were just as ready for an adventure. Especially when there could be a threat to the Woodland Realm at hand.


	2. A Dangerous Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I would like to thank emmabeth for her assistance. She almost certainly saved the lives of our trio this chapter! She also helped me determine what notes needed to be at the end of the chapter, so kindly look there for clarifications/translations.

Arasseth frowned as she followed Legolas silently through the trees with Tauriel at her back. When she was with her friends, she always felt a sense of security; she knew on an almost instinctual level that they wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But as the three crept deeper into the gloom, she couldn’t repress a flutter of fear. With every passing year, the forest seemed to grow darker and more hostile. It would be foolish to assume the three were ever truly safe outside the Halls of Thranduil, regardless of how fiercely they were determined to protect each other. At the same time, Arasseth could feel an excited anticipation bubbling through her. What would they find at the end of the trail of broken branches the deer had left in her wake? Listening for any clue, she bit back both her fear and her excitement, focusing on the trees around her in an attempt to head-off any surprises.

 

It had been near sunset when they’d left Thranduil’s Halls; now the trio was forced to move slower as their eyes adjusted to the oncoming night. This darkness, at least, was familiar and comfortable to Arasseth. She wasn’t sure how, but the shadows of night were easily discernable from the shadows that crept over the forest from the south. Perhaps the night was simply gentler and welcome, if only because it was a fleeting thing that would pass with the dawn. Or perhaps it was because the night brought forth the pure, clear light of stars and moon that never failed to fill Arasseth with hope. The stars glimmered into view as the sun vanished, and the moon – early risen – filled the forest with enough light that the three never lost the deer’s trail.

 

Ahead of her, Legolas paused as the trees cleared slightly, the set of his shoulders tense.

“What is it?” Tauriel whispered.

“A cave,” Legolas responded, crouching down to examine the tracks on the ground. “The deer came from within, but there are other marks; I cannot make them out.”

Arasseth and Tauriel both peered over his shoulder to look where he was pointing.

“This morning’s rain has washed the definition away,” Arasseth said. “But it is clear something has come and gone from this cave more than once.”

“Something that walks on two legs,” Tauriel added.

“Yes, but what?” Legolas asked.

As if in answer to his question, a sort of shuffling noise sounded from the cave; as if sleepy feet were scraping across the stone.  Arasseth tensed, her eyes widening as a hulking figure shambled out of the yawning mouth of the cave. Rising like some nightmare from the gloom. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d pulled Legolas and Tauriel deeper into the underbrush, concealing them.

“Troll,” Tauriel hissed with a mixture of disgust and eagerness.

Arasseth glanced to her left, noting the expression on her friend’s face and resisting the urge to sigh. Of course Tauriel would find the idea of taking down a troll exciting.

“How did a troll get this close to the Halls?” Legolas whispered, his voice barely louder than a sigh.

“We can puzzle that out later,” Tauriel responded. “Now we must focus on destroying it.”

The Silvan huntress was tense with anticipation, her hand inching toward her quiver. Legolas was much the same; an arrow was already set to the string of his bow and his light eyes narrowed as he judged his shot. Crouched between the two of them, Arasseth felt a weight settle in her stomach. Trolls were dangerous creatures, of that there was no doubt, but Arasseth couldn’t help wondering if killing it was the only solution.

 

The sharp snap of a twig caught the troll’s attention as a squirrel scrambled out of the branches overhead, its movement drawing the troll’s beady-eyed gaze. For a moment, everything stood still as the troll spotted the trio and struggled to dredge the memory of Elves from the depths of its mind. They stood frozen, hoping – no doubt like the deer that had led them here had done – that if they didn’t move, the troll wouldn’t attack.

Arasseth could see the moonlight glinting off the creature’s eyes as it blinked once, twice, three times before recognition dawned on its malformed face and it opened its mouth wide in an ear-splitting howl. As if they’d planned it, the three Elves sprang into action.

Legolas loosed his bow, his arrow sailing toward the troll and catching shallowly in the creature’s shoulder. The troll growled, moving to brush the arrow away at the same moment Tauriel’s arrow struck its side. Confused, the creature spun to the left and right, trying to soothe its pain and lash out at its attackers at the same time. Arasseth had jumped into the branches above the moment her friends had attacked and now aimed an arrow of her own at the creature. Her hesitation of moments before was gone as she released the string and watched her shot strike true. The troll, unable to keep up with the arrows pelting it from three sides, began to bellow; its long arms swinging wildly.

From the relative security of her elevated position, Arasseth kept one eye on her friends as they moved with practiced grace around the small clearing. Every time the troll lumbered too closely to one or the other, Arasseth’s heart jumped into her throat. Her arrows, though well aimed, seemed to do little more than annoy the beast; its thick hide serving it well against all their attacks.

Undaunted, Arasseth took another shot, keeping in mind what arrows were left in her quiver. The troll howled and thrashed wildly as her arrow landed in its ear. Her rush of satisfaction vanished as the troll hurtled toward the tree, smashing into it before she had a chance to move to a safer position. Reflex alone saved her as she leapt, diving over the troll’s head. She landed, rolling with the impact. As she scrambled to her feet, she turned and gasped as the troll’s massive fist came racing toward her. Almost before she could process what was happening, Legolas’ hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She felt the air in the wake of the troll’s fist brush past them as Legolas spun her, putting himself between her and the troll and burying his knife in the troll’s arm. The creature lurched back and it was Arasseth’s turn to grab Legolas, holding him steady as the knife was yanked from his grasp.

The two stumbled backwards as the troll screamed its rage and pain toward the starry sky.

“Are you alright?” Legolas gasped, glancing over her to check for wounds despite the enraged beast before them.

“Yes,” Arasseth said, pulling him farther from the troll. “You?”

His response was lost as the troll screeched again and lunged for them. It stumbled before it reached them, falling to one knee and frantically trying to reach something on its back. Without pause, Legolas and Arasseth set arrows to bowstrings and fired in unison. Arasseth’s arrow sunk into the troll’s throat but it was Legolas’ arrow that pierced its eye and brought the creature to the forest floor with a thud that sent a tremor through the ground. Tauriel still clung to the creature’s back, her knives imbedded between its shoulder blades.  

The three were silent, almost afraid to move as they watched the troll for any sign of life. Tauriel was the first to break the silence as she pulled her blades free with a squelch and stepped hastily away from the body. It was as if her movement broke some sort of spell and Arasseth felt her knees give out. She sat on the grass a little quicker than she’d intended, the air leaving her lungs in a rush as left-over adrenaline pumped through her. Tauriel pulled Legolas’ knife from the troll’s arm and handed it to him before taking a seat next to Arasseth. Legolas carefully cleaned the blade before sitting down as well.

After another moment of silence, he glanced at Arasseth and Tauriel and smiled sheepishly. “Who wants to tell my parents we snuck out of the Halls, stayed out past sunset, and hunted a troll?”

Tauriel and Arasseth exchanged a flat look and burst out laughing.

 

* * *

 

The Halls of Thranduil seemed less exciting, now that Legolas had taken his post on the Northern border of Mirkwood. The Queen had kept Arasseth busy, as usual, with studies and errands, but now there was no Prince to distract her from time to time. There was, of course, still Tauriel, but Thranduil had been inviting her to train with his guard more and more frequently. The Silvan elf was delighted, happy to learn from some of Mirkwood’s finest warriors, and Arasseth was happy for her. Though she couldn’t help the feelings of loneliness the crept up on her when she least expected it.

 

Fortunately, today Arasseth was able to enjoy the beauty of her home without missing the companionship of her friends too much. She was sitting in her favorite garden; a beam of sunlight from one of the fissures in the natural ceiling of the cave illuminated her book perfectly as she sat on a bench at the base of a large tree. There were many gardens in the Halls of Thranduil, filled with flowers, bushes, and trees; all tucked safely away in caverns cut from the living stone and shaped so lovingly that each column was a work of art. It was as if pieces of the Greenwood of old had been preserved; protected from the shadows that had overtaken much of the forest. If Arasseth’s studies were to be believed, the Halls of Thranduil were considered the least of the Elf lands of Endor; lacking the elegance of Lothlorien, the majesty of Imladris, the tranquility of the Mithlond. Arasseth had never been to Lothlorien, and her trip to Imladris and then onto Mithlond had been tainted by the grief of saying farewell to her parents. She had been impressed by the lands of Elrond and Cirdan, but neither had moved her as much as her own home could. Aseawen had told her tales of Menegroth, the capital of Doriath in the First Age, and how the halls of her husband paled in comparison to the wonder that had been lost but Arasseth couldn’t imagine a more splendid home.

 

As if summoned by her thoughts, the Queen of Mirkwood entered the garden and joined Arasseth at her bench with a smile.

“It is good to see you enjoying the garden,” Aseawen said, looking at Arasseth with equal parts affection and teasing. “You have been more restless than usual, of late.”

Arasseth glanced away; it was true, she’d been having increasing difficulty paying attention to Aseawen’s instruction.

“Tell me,” Aseawen continued. “What do you think is the greatest strength of our people?”

When Arasseth returned her gaze to the Queen, she found a gently curious expression on her face, as if the Queen had asked sometime as simple as ‘what do you think of Dorwinion wine’.

“I do not understand,” Arasseth said after a pause, unsure of where to begin to answer Aseawen’s question.

“Yes you do,” Aseawen said, clearly aware that Arasseth was stalling for time. “What is the first thing that came to mind?”

“Our resilience,” Arasseth answered. “Our people endure, as we always have, even besieged by the darkness of the world outside our borders.”

Aseawen’s smile took on a wry quality. “You sound like my husband,” she said with a small laugh.

Arasseth wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she didn’t.

“However, you are not wrong,” Aseawen said. “Our people are stubborn, resilient – as you more kindly put it. We cling fiercely to that which we love and surrender nothing without first paying a dear price. And we do so without the expectation of aid,” Aseawen’s voice became thoughtful and Arasseth had the distinct impression that the Queen was no longer speaking directly to her, so much as speaking her thoughts aloud. “We have grown more and more isolated, fading deeper into the forest and forgetting old friendships.”

The pair fell into silence, the Queen remembering things from ages past that Arasseth couldn’t yet hope to comprehend. Arasseth let her eyes and attention wander, comfortable in the company of Aseawen even as she wondered why the Queen had sought her out. The play of sunlight over a nearby column caused faint shadows to dance over a carving of vines, giving the illusion that they had come to life and stirred in a gentle breeze.

Aseawen shook herself out of her thoughts and turned to Arasseth with a smile. “I have a task for you, dear one,” she said. “It will be something of a test of all you have learned thus far.”

“A test?” Arasseth  repeated, not entirely liking the sound of that.

“You have learned much about the history of Middle-earth, of the peoples that live here and their ways of life. You have also learned, I hope, that isolation is rarely the protection is seems to be; at least not for long. I would have you travel to Imladris and deliver a message to Lord Elrond on my behalf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chapter title is in reference to the quote: "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.”  
> Endor is the Quenya word for Middle-earth (no connection to the planet/moon from Star Wars, I hope...)  
> Imladris is the Sindarin word for Rivendell  
> Mithlond is the Sindarin word for the Grey Havens, of which Cirdan is lord  
> Menegroth was the capital of Doriath in the First Age, where Thingol and Melian ruled  
> Dorwinion is a land on the outskirts of Rhun, known for producing a potent wine
> 
> Timeline of the Third Age to date:  
> cTA10: Thranduil and Aseawen assume rulership over Orophin's holdings in Greenwood the Great  
> TA 1050: Sauron establishes Dol Guldur, Greenwood is renamed Mirkwood  
> TA 1086: Legolas born to Thranduil and Aseawen  
> TA 1092: Tauriel born  
> TA 1107: Arasseth born  
> TA 1215: Tauriel’s parents killed, Arasseth’s father wounded. Arasseth’s father and mother go to Valinor. Arasseth enters Aseawen’s service.  
> TA 1300: "Trees They Long Have Known"; "A Dangerous Business"
> 
> Thank you for reading, I welcome any constructive criticism/comments you may have to offer!

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the story is a reference to Gandalf's quote "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."  
> The chapter title is a reference to the final part of The Road Goes Ever On:  
> "Eyes that fire and sword have seen  
> And horror in the halls of stone  
> Look at last on meadows green  
> And trees and hills they long have known."  
> Alqualonde: The capital of the Falmari elves in Valinor, this is where Aseawen was born and lived shortly, before coming to Middle Earth.  
> Ered Mithrin: The Grey Mountains to the north of Mirkwood.  
> Withered Heath: To the east of the Grey Mountains, a breeding ground for dragons.  
> Emyn-nu-Fuin: The Mountains of Mirkwood, to the south-west of Thranduil's Halls
> 
> Timeline of the Third Age to date:  
> cTA10: Thranduil and Aseawen assume rulership over Orophin's holdings in Greenwood the Great  
> TA 1050: Sauron establishes Dol Guldur, Greenwood is renamed Mirkwood  
> TA 1086: Legolas born to Thranduil and Aseawen  
> TA 1092: Tauriel born  
> TA 1107: Arasseth born  
> TA 1215: Tauriel’s parents killed, Arasseth’s father wounded. Arasseth’s father and mother go to Valinor. Arasseth enters Aseawen’s service.  
> TA 1300: "Trees They Long Have Known"
> 
> Thank you for reading, I welcome any constructive criticism/comments you may have to offer!


End file.
